


I'm Mechanics, He's Medical

by agentverbivore (verbivore8642)



Series: Holiday!Verse [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Jemma's POV, Post-Coital Cuddling, Skye's POV, Team Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2542268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbivore8642/pseuds/agentverbivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after S.H.I.E.L.D. has settled into the Playground, Skye organizes the agency's first annual Halloween party. But despite their promises to co-host, FitzSimmons are no where to be found....</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Mechanics, He's Medical

_Two seconds_. Skye had left them alone for two seconds, but apparently that’s all it took for FitzSimmons to disappear these days. The first-ever annual S.H.I.E.LD. Halloween party was under way, and Skye’s co-hosts were nowhere to be found. Shaking her head, she made an annoyed huff before downing the last of her fourth beer.

“Hey –” She reached out and snagged Trip by the edge of his campy vampire cape. “You happen to see where FitzSimmons went?”

He shrugged, hands full with two beers, and scratched at the edge of his fake beard. “Sorry –”

Skye groaned, swiping his spare beer and yanking the sleeve of her red sweater down so she could twist off the cap. “Probably lying in a ditch somewhere –”

Trip snorted. “I doubt they went that far.” 

“Oh, no,” Skye replied darkly, “I meant that they _better_ be lying in a ditch somewhere. They promised they’d help me with the party.” She paused, taking a long swig. “And my costume doesn’t make much sense without them.”

“I knew who you were,” interjected Bobbi, striding up behind them. Her costume, as far as Skye could tell, consisted of normal clothes, her blonde hair slightly more styled than normal, and a large crystal-and-silver pendant at her neck. Turning to Trip, she pointed to his second beer. “You drinking that?”

“Guess I’m not,” he replied drily, and turned to grab more beer from the nearby cooler chest. 

“Speaking of costumes,” Bobbi said as she eyed Trip’s get-up. “Why’d you decide to go with Count Chocula?”

“He’s Blacula.” Skye giggled behind her beer bottle as Trip bared his fake fangs.

“I’m straight-up iconic – and don’t you forget it.” With that, and a cocky grin, Trip took his new beers and headed over to May, who was dressed in her normal all-black and giving him an impatient eyebrow raise.

“Heaven forefend I insult Blacula.” Bobbi sipped her beer and the two women laughed. “So, who’s missing?”

Sighing, Skye shook her head. “FitzSimmons ditched me to go make out again.” 

The older woman snorted, and then continued her trek through the party of already-very-drunk S.H.I.E.LD. agents, speaking as she walked backwards. “Damn bunnies.”

Laughing again at the idea of FitzSimmons as bunnies – an image probably far more accurate than it should be – Skye resigned herself to hosting the party alone for a while. She decided to give them another half an hour before she went searching – and, when she found them, they’d better have a good excuse.

\------

Elsewhere in the Playground, quite a few empty halls away from the party, could be heard the very last notes of tandem, orgasmic moans as they faded into deep gasps. In the darkest corner of the lab was a bench, on which Jemma now clung to Fitz, arms wrapped firmly around his neck and forehead pressed against his as she forced her brain back to its normal, functional capacity. And, oh, that was no mean feat, not with his hands still gripping her bare arse to hold her in place over his hips and aftershocks trembling through her limbs. Gradually, she relaxed into his hold, feeling slightly rubbery and completely sated as she brushed her nose against his, enjoying the heat of his breath fanning over her lips. He moved his arms to encircle her waist over her pink, cotton shirt and made a low, contented hum, striking blue eyes blinking open to stare up at her.

“We should get cleaned up.” She murmured this against his mouth, enjoying the little shivers her voice sent over his skin. 

Instead of agreeing, though, Fitz made a funny little pout and pulled her more tightly against him (not that they could physically be much closer than they were at this particular moment anyway). “What, no... um, no pillow talk?” 

Smoothing her fingers through his completely messed-up hair, she chuckled. “No pillows here, Fitz.” 

He nuzzled into her neck, his continued warmth welcome as the sweat on her skin began to cool in the air-conditioned lab. “I’m not ready to share you yet.”

This time her laugh was louder but just as fond, and she pressed her lips gently to his before lifting herself up and away from him, stretching as her muscles protested. Picking up the brown overalls that were the centerpiece of her costume, Jemma began the hunt for her wayward underwear. “You have me to yourself all the time.”

After taking a few moments to clean himself off and toss the spent condom, Fitz noticed her searching for the missing item and took up the hunt. “Not nearly as much as I’d like,” he groused, making her tut in amusement as he peered behind a nearby cabinet.

“If it were up to you, we’d never leave your bunk.”

The underwear was nowhere to be found within the overalls, but she couldn’t imagine that they’d gotten very far, despite their frantic removal not so long ago. Admittedly, at the time she’d been unaware of much else other than Fitz’s hands and mouth seemingly everywhere at once, but she didn’t think he could have thrown them far.

He made a quiet, victorious noise and she turned, watching him lift the rogue piece of clothing off a nearby light fixture. When she stepped over to retrieve them, he pulled her against him for a languid, affectionate kiss. “Doubt you’d argue with that, hm?” 

A slight tremor ran through the hand cradling the back of her head, but neither of them paid it much attention. Physical exertion tended to trigger a few extra tremors, and, well, Jemma took them as a sign of her own prowess whenever she felt them during their post-coital cuddles. 

She shook her head at his comment and patted his bare chest, stepping away just enough to pull on the underwear. “No, you’re right, who needs a lab? I can just do dissections on your bedside table.” 

The face he made in response, wrinkling his nose and mouth in disgust, was too adorable to resist, and she moved back in for another kiss. Fitz grinned against her lips, no doubt feeling smug that his plan to distract her from returning to the party was working all too well. Smoothing one hand around his neck, Jemma cringed inwardly at the fingernail marks she could feel there; she hadn’t realized quite how hard she’d been holding onto him. Hopefully they’d fade in a few hours. But then Fitz traced the seam of her lips with his tongue and she shivered into his touch, forgetting for a few more minutes that they had somewhere they were supposed to be. 

Eventually, Jemma heard the beat of a new song reverberate faintly through the Playground’s hallways, and remembered that she was standing in a very public place – in her knickers. Giving Fitz one last, lingering kiss, she stepped away and reached for the overalls. “We really do need to get back. Your ‘little sister’ is already going be annoyed enough with us for abandoning her at another party after _someone_ couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” he murmured, hands at either side of the dress shirt he now needed to button up. But he’d paused, distracted by watching her, Jemma could tell – he was staring somewhere in the vicinity of her thighs – so she gently prodded one of his hands with her finger before securing her own outfit. “There’s just something about that costume...”

She raised an eyebrow, moving away to fix her hair and make up – and to let him concentrate on the buttons. His progress in the last year was phenomenal, but buttons still proved to be somewhat time consuming and the ones on this shirt were particularly miniscule. “Honestly, I’m not sure I get it – it’s adorable, of course, especially on Jewel Staite, but it’s just overalls and a pink shirt. Why is _that_ so irresistible?”

Fitz shook his head emphatically, eyes focused on his shirt. “S’not just that though, y’know – not just the clothes...”

“You mean the grease paint?” She frowned at her reflection in the table she was using as a makeshift mirror, and then straightened, grinning at him. “You like me with _grease paint_ all over my face?” There were just a few smudges here and there, but the idea that this was what turned Fitz on amused her to no end.

He made a sharp tsk, finishing up the last couple of buttons and his ears flushing a light pink. “And the way you were talking... about the... you know...” 

Jemma plucked his dark purple vest off of the desk where it had landed and returned to him, a smile still teasing at her lips. “The engine? That wasn’t even scientific, Fitz, I was just quoting the show.”

He shrugged, taking the vest from her and sliding it over his shoulders. “Did things to me. You being a mechanic.”

“So the next time I want to get you into bed, I should just start talking about needing a new compression coil for the steamer, hmm?” She tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to look thoughtful as he shot her an exasperated look.

“You’re not allowed to make fun of me when _you_ insisted I wear my, uh, my – my shirtsleeves rolled up,” he grumbled, trying to get his hair to go back to the way it had been before their interlude.

They’d spent half an hour in Jemma’s washroom using product and a hell of a lot of stubbornness to get his hair to slick back straight like Simon’s, but all their careful work had gone out the window when Fitz had dragged Jemma into the lab because he couldn’t wait any longer. (And it really isn’t _her_ fault that she’d needed something to hold onto, or that carding her fingers through his hair sometimes elicited a certain, appealing whimper when he was aroused.)

She stepped forward to try to smooth out the curls that had returned with a vengeance at the back of his head and sighed. “Might be a lost cause now,” she muttered, and Fitz chuckled, shoving the front back one last time and giving up. “Besides,” Jemma said, rolling up one of his sleeves as she did so. “You have very nice forearms, Fitz, you should take it as a compliment.”

He snorted, but let her continue with his sleeve, shivering slightly when she smoothed one finger up from the inside of his wrist to his elbow. “Of all the things about me you could choose to, um, flatter, you go with my forearms.” 

Jemma raised an eyebrow and moved to the other arm. “I honestly don’t know whether you’re angling for me to compliment your intelligence or your cock.”

Fitz spluttered into a cough and she grinned, infinitely pleased that after two months of having a sexual relationship she could still make him flush just by saying things like that. She didn’t know if it was because he was easily embarrassed about sex or still shy about their relationship, but either way she found it infinitely endearing. “Okay, well, I –” He cleared his throat, and returned his eyes to her face. “Really, I was thinking about my IQ, but I’ll take the other one.” She squinted up at him and he squirmed under her gaze. “What?

“Just trying to decide what to say about your very big –”

“Seriously, guys?”

Skye’s exasperation was palpable, but Jemma didn’t turn around right away, instead watching Fitz flush even further and then tugging at the edge of his vest. “Better get this closed,” she teased, and then turned to greet their annoyed best friend.

“Sorry, Skye, we –”

The younger girl stomped around the biggest lab table, boots pointedly making as much noise as possible, and put her hands on her hips, pink skirt swishing slightly with her momentum. “You _promised_ you’d help me with the party.” Jemma opened her mouth but Skye barreled onwards on a burst of energy likely fueled by both sugar and caffeine – and maybe a few beers. “You know that if someone doesn’t keep Hunter away from Bobbi at all times there’s bound to be bloodshed or crying, and neither from her.”

“Sorry, Mei-Mei,” Fitz interrupted, putting a hand on the small of Jemma’s back as he retrieved his hideous orange sunglasses from the table next to her. His use of Simon’s endearment for River actually stopped Skye’s rant and she paused, folding her arms. “We’re coming back right now – promise.”

Skye huffed, pulling her long, red sleeves down over her hands. “Calling me ‘mei-mei’ isn’t going to get you off the hook, you know.”

Grinning, Fitz stepped closer and gave her shoulder a light nudge. “But it’s helping, yeah?”

She glared at him and then Jemma, who just shrugged, and threw up her hands. “Stupid, incorrigible bunnies.” Fitz and Jemma shared a bemused look as Skye strode back to the doorway, unsuccessfully suppressing a grin. “Well? C’mon, my costume doesn’t work _nearly_ as well without my big bro and my adorable mechanic.” Her tone was still theoretically annoyed, but the way she waved for them to follow her spoke far more about her excitement to return to the party than anything else.

“We’re coming, we’re coming,” Jemma laughed, “just making sure we’ve got everything.”

Raising an eyebrow, Skye shook her head and disappeared down the hall. “If you’re not there in two minutes, I’m coming back with a hose,” she called behind her.

Jemma did a final pat-down of her overalls, making sure that she had her lanyard and that nothing in the lab was too out of place. She thought she remembered knocking something over with her foot at one point, but nothing seemed to be broken, so she turned back to Fitz. Instead of doing the same checks she was, however, he was standing completely still behind her, worrying the edges of his costume glasses and staring down at the floor.

“Fitz? What’s wrong?”

He jumped slightly at her voice and then shook his head. “No – nothing, really...”

“I know that look,” she pushed. “What is it?”

Fitz chuckled slightly at himself, carefully tucking the glasses into his breast pocket before looking up at her. “I – honestly, this is going to seem very, uh – very... not related. I just... you know how in TV shows people give each other keys to their apartments? As a, you know, to show the – their commitment?” Nodding, Jemma stepped close enough to grasp one of his hands, concerned by the nerves that had settled behind his eyes. “Well, I – I wanted to give you my key. But –”

“Oh,” Jemma breathed, smiling up at him. “But we don’t have keys. And I already know the code to your bunk.”

“Yeah,” he said, with a slight tinge of relief. “And I don’t want to ask – I mean, not that I don’t want to, eventually, maybe some day, but I’m not ready to – I don’t think we’re ready –”

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t race slightly at what she thought he meant, but she also agreed with him enough that she didn’t want to pursue it any further. (Not tonight, anyway. There was time enough for them to think about those kinds of questions and the exchange of certain other words at some point in the distant future.)

“No, I agree,” she interrupted, pulling him a step closer to her and pressing a kiss to the back of his fingers. “Not yet.”

“Right.” Fitz smiled down at her, almost seeming to forget, for a moment, what he was saying. This smile was new, part of their “after,” and it made Jemma melt just a little bit every time she saw it, wishing that she could possibly begin to express with words the kind of love she felt for him – and that he showed with just the slight curve of his lips and brightening of his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head a little, getting himself back on track. “So that’s why I stopped – was, you know, standing here. Couldn’t think of what to do instead. ‘Cause I want to, you know,” he added, almost needlessly at this point. “I want to give you my key.”

Feeling suddenly overly emotional, Jemma just closed her eyes and leaned up to press her forehead against his, breathing in the musky-clean scent of him and wondering what she’d done in her life to deserve this much happiness. Because she’d made so many mistakes, and so had he, that the odds of them moving forward had, at one point, seemed astronomical. But in the same way that it had once seemed unthinkable that she’d find the perfect lab partner at the age of sixteen, so it was that they’d managed to learn how to be together again – unpredictable and yet somehow the only path forward. Sometimes, when Jemma let herself think about their relationship, it made her feel so peaceful and happy that it seemed almost impossible to express, as if nothing else mattered as much as living every second that they had together to the fullest, knowing that being with Fitz taught her how to be the best version of herself.

“Fitz,” she murmured, keeping her eyes closed and sighing at the feeling of his hands encircling her waist. “You _are_ my key.”

There was a moment of silence, and then she could feel his nose wrinkle slightly next to hers. “I’m your key... to what...?”

“Oh, Fitz,” she groaned, rolling her eyes as she headed to the door.

Fitz followed quickly behind her, carding his fingers through his hair. “I just mean, I was talking about a physical key, so I dunno...”

“Never mind –”

“No, sorry, I know, it doesn’t matter, come back –” 

“The moment’s over,” she teased, turning to walk backwards down the hall so she could see the pained, puppy-like expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, jogging to catch up to her. “Honestly, I didn’t mean to ruin it –”

“Hmm,” Jemma said, pausing before rounding the corner that would take them to the party. “Well, I suppose you’ll just have to make it up to me later tonight.”

Fitz caught the grin pulling at her lips and gave her a small, mischievous smile in return. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

She leaned in to give him one more private kiss, resting one hand on his chest. “I’m very fond of you.” 

He gave her that smile again, and raised her hand up to his lips. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Just then, a very bitter British mercenary stalked around the corner and stormed past them, muttering something about hell beasts, and FitzSimmons laughed. Jemma tugged on Fitz’s hand, pulling him behind her into the party, very much looking forward to the rest of the night – and all the other happy nights to come.

**Author's Note:**

> The first person who goes to my tumblr and correctly guesses the identity of Bobbi's costume wins a 500-word FitzSimmons drabble on the prompt of their choosing! 
> 
> (No, seriously - this is my version of a Halloween costume contest. Go guess!)
> 
> EDIT: We have a winner! Bobbi is dressed as Anya, from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. Thanks for playing, guys - and happy Halloween!
> 
> As always, thank you to MK for editing!


End file.
